Sometime in December
by Youkai-ChoGonou
Summary: It's a cold night, the streets are blanketed in snow, and Alfred is hearing things... The seeds of romance are sewn on a very special night. Rated Teen for mild language.


**AN: **The song is the Russian version of "Once Upon a December" called "Sometime in December" from the movie Anastasia. It's a beautiful song.

**Disclaimer**:_I do not own Hetalia or the characters. Not getting paid and all that jazz._

**APH:**

**Sometime in December**

It was an impossibly cold night in December. Briefly, he asked himself, why he didn't spend these days in one of his warmer states. It would make much more sense, but he figured he might just miss the snow. There was something enchanting about a snowy moonlit night when everything was silent but the soft patter of the falling snow. As it was, the snow had stopped, but left a good eight inches on the ground. Making any kind of vehicle travel dangerous until the plows came through. So, for now, he walked home.

It was really amazing how the snow seemed to dull usual ambiance of the city, making it eerily silent, like a ghost town. The only thing he heard were his footsteps crunching on the frozen ground and the howl of the wind. But somehow, the howling wind seemed to be singing to him…

"_Kak uzor, na okne, Snova proshloe ryadom."_

The blonde stopped, pulling his coat up tighter around his neck and looked around for the owner of that haunting voice. At least, it sounded like a voice… It wasn't any louder than a whisper and could only be heard amidst the howling wind. He stood still for so long, the silence became near deafening. Finally, he began to press on again. His mind was playing tricks on him. That was the only explanation.

The wind whipped at his back when he turned a corner, the coverage of the buildings was no longer acting as a breaker for the chilling current. It blew his scarf right off his shoulders.

"Ack! Come back!" He yelped, stumbling through the snow at a quickened pace, trying to catch the fleeing scarf but to no avail. He found himself tripping over a snow-covered tree limb, falling to his hands and knees.

"_Kto-to pel, pesnyu mne, V zimnii__̆ __vecher kogda-to."_

Alfred pushed out of the snow, whipping around quickly to look for the owner of the tragic voice hiding in the lamenting sound of the wind. To his dismay, there was no one around. Not so much as a cracked window to explain the sound. Lifting his glasses, Alfred rubbed his eyes with the heels of both hands before turning back to the path, only to bump into a solid form.

"Privet, Comrade."

His glasses were dropped back to their resting place on the bridge of his nose, as he focused his blue eyes, not that the voice hadn't given him away. "Russia?" The man was holding something fluttering in one hand. He realized then that it was his escaped scarf, and the slightly larger man was holding it out to him. "You—I—Thanks." Alfred muttered, taking the scarf and wrapping it around his neck.

"Little Amerika is cold, da? Should he not be home, indoors, where is being warm?" The man's voice was sweet and lilting, innocent.

"None'a yer business." The American muttered, stepping past the towering man. "What are _you_ doing in my states?" He demanded, not offering for the man to walk with him. He knew the formality wasn't needed. The Russian would follow him. He knew, because when the man made it a point to show up, he wouldn't go until he'd said or done what he'd needed to say or do.

"Hmm~ Could be replying as cryptically as little one, da? None of your business." The man replied with the mildest form of a smirk tugging at that smile on his. His voice was equally as playful. It was so incredibly irritating!

"It _is_ my business, because this is _my_ home you're invading with your—ooft!" Alfred stepped down and must have reached the edge of the sidewalk, because his foot sank further than it should have, his body tipping forward again. But a strong hand caught the back of his jacket, pulling him back to his feet before his face planted the snow.

"Should be being more careful where Little One is walking."

"…thanks." The blonde muttered, embarrassment apparent on his cheeks as they hued a bit on the pink side of the spectrum. Somehow, being 'saved' by the Russian didn't sit well with him. And somehow… for some reason… he…

"Little Amerika should not fret. Will be leaving tomorrow as soon as Little One's airport releases flight."

"Where are you staying?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, so he added, "N-not that I care or anything. I'm just… curious. Making conversation." Really, this was the most civil conversation he'd had with the man in a long time. He wondered if he was losing his antagonistic touch, or if he was just too frozen to put in the effort to bicker with the man.

"Hotel was booked on account of held flights." The Russian shrugged easily, as if this really wasn't a big deal. Alfred's heart sank.

"I have…" _Dammit, what am I SAYING? _"a spare bed if you… ya know…" _Mouth! You will STOP this nonsense this instant, dammit! I don't want that commie in my house! I don't want him in my country, let alone in the very house I sleep in!_

Both the Russian's dark brows rose with surprise, turning a bit to face him as he replied. "Is very kind of Little Comrade to offer. Would be rude to be refusing. Da. Spasibo."

"Hey, just 'cause I don't like ya, doesn't mean I'd leave ya out in the snow. That's not very heroic of me, now is it?" Wow, there his mouth went again, talking without his permission! Last time he'd checked, Superman didn't offer to SLEEP with Lex Luthor—WOW, BAD WORDING THERE, ALFRED JONES! Even his inner voice was doing that horrid saying what he didn't want to hear thing. Something _really_ needed to be done about that.

The Russian merely hummed, with that child-like smile. It gave him the creeps. They continued down the path to Alfred's domicile in silence. That eerie singing had been completely forgotten for now, not heard once since meeting the Russian in the snow.

Snow-damp clothing was hanging on a rack near the furnace to dry, while the Russian sat on a small sofa. The American was in the other room heating up some hot chocolate. While the man was away, several pictures adorning the walls caught his violet eyes. Different scenery of different states, all beautiful and breathtaking in their own rights. But one in particular caught his eye. No doubt, the state 'unofficially' known as the Sunflower State of Kansas. The picture was that of a vast field of blooming sunflowers. Captivating flora. He closed his eyes, envisioning himself standing amongst that field of breathtaking flowers. Those eyes didn't open until he heard the clink of ceramic on glass. He looked down to see Alfred had set the cup of hot cocoa on the glass coffee table in front of him.

"You looked kinda peaceful. Didn't wanna interrupt." The blonde explained as he sat across from Ivan, next to the fire. The light from the flames danced off the golden blonde locks like the first rays of dawn through that very field in the picture. Why hadn't he noticed before that Alfred was like one of his precious sunflowers? As much time as they spent hating eachother, the thought never crossed his mind.

"Little one is remembering time when we were not hating eachother, da?" The Russian inquired, lifting the cup from the glass, blowing into the contents. It was surely still too hot to drink, despite the little American hastily sipping at his, then making little hissing sounds as it burned his tongue. Yet he still didn't wait. The question made the impatient blonde pause and think back. His eyes seemed to be seeing, but not what was in front of him. Digging through past memories to find those times so long ago.

"So what if I do?" He asked defensively when he seemed to return to the present, blue eyes a little duller with the remembrance.

Ivan hummed, sipping carefully at his cocoa without comment. It wouldn't do to anger the man right now. Not while he was being so kind as to keep him around for the night. There were several things involved in his docile mood with the American.

The silence dragged on until both had finished with their hot chocolate. The American just couldn't take it anymore. Something needed to kill the silence other than the crackling and popping of the fire. He didn't care what it was, even if it meant fighting with the other man.

"What are you _really_ doing in my states? I really can't believe you'd just drop by for a visit…" Alfred said dryly as he set his cup aside.

"Is it being wrong to be wanting to visit?"

"Of course not. If you were any normal person. It's never just visiting with you. You've got a motive." Alfred narrowed his eyes at the Russian across from him.

"Nyet." Ivan shrugged, setting his own cup down on the glass table. He examined those narrowed blue eyes with the golden light swimming within them like molten blue glass just out of the furnace. Golden hair brought to life by the unnatural shine. The man looked serious. Less childish. Grown up. And it moved something in the Russian. Maybe it was all the vodka he'd had to drink earlier, or the lighting and sunflowers or maybe it was the time of year… something. Something had to explain what he was feeling right now that made perfect, logical sense.

The man stood from the couch and approached the confused blonde. He grasped the man's chin, and before he could protest, he planted a soft, gentle kiss on his lips, leaving Alfred dumbfounded.

"Spokoĭnoĭ nochi, little Comrade." The Russian purred, leaving in the direction of the room Alfred had designated for him. He'd been explicitly told not to go anywhere but that room or the bathroom while Alfred was asleep. The man had been very clear in warning Ivan that he slept with his gun handy, so he shouldn't act on any little ideas that came to mind.

Alfred's mind seemed to stop working after those lips connected with his own. He couldn't concentrate. It took a moment to react. He stood up, reached out, catching Russia's wrist in one hand. "Hey, wait—I mean… what the hell?"

"Hm?"

"Don't 'hm' me, you commie bastard! You know damn well what you just did! I wanna know why? What the hell is all of this about? You visiting, that haunting song, the kissing!"

Ivan faced Alfred, genuinely confused when he referred to a 'haunting song'. Honestly, he hadn't a clue what the man was referring. He hadn't heard any song.

"Little one is tired, da? Should be getting sleep—"

The larger man was cut off when he was pulled forward by his wrist; Alfred's lips were on his before he knew it. That was something unexpected. Not unwanted, but unexpected. Fingers clad in brown leather sifted through golden locks before they found a nice resting place against the back of Alfred's head, cupping him close. That intimate moment lasted what felt like an eternity, but neither seemed to really mind.

"Goodnight." Alfred finally said after breaking the kiss a little breathlessly. He immediately pulled away and left the Russian standing in the middle of the room. Ivan had noticed the lovely pink blush across his cheeks as the boy fled. He was still so very much a child.

The larger man retired to his own room and quickly fell asleep. However, his sleep only lasted a few short hours until a gentle, timid knock at his door woke him. No doubt the man was almost hoping Russian didn't hear him. And this brought a wickedly amused grin to his usually childish features, but the room was too dark to notice.

"Come in, Little One."

When Alfred opened the door, the wash of light from the other room spilled into the darkness. He immediately took note of Alfred's attire. The younger nation was still dressed, despite going to bed several hours ago.

"Did little Amerika have a nightmare?" The Russian cooed with an antagonistic undertone. He'd play along with the idea that the other had been in bed for now.

"No. Sh-shut up…" He muttered, closing the door behind him as he entered the room. Ivan soon felt weight on the edge of the bed as the American sat next to him. "You… kissed me earlier…"

A dark eyebrow raised questioningly, not that Alfred could see it. "Da. Little One was kissing me back, so am not seeing the problem."

"Why?"

Ok, the boy wasn't this stupid. And as he opened his mouth to say just that, he realized, he didn't even know why himself. So calling the boy out on his stupidity would be calling himself dense as well. Instead, he shifted on the bed, sitting up to wrap an arm around the boy's middle, pulling him close. To his satisfaction, Alfred didn't struggle. He merely leaned back against the Russian.

"We hate eachother, don't we? We shouldn't feel this way."

"Da." Ivan admitted simply. He agreed completely, and yet there he was, holding the little obnoxious American in his arms. He nuzzled into that sunflower hair contentedly. But to his dismay, Alfred pulled away.

The little blonde shifted, turning in his hold. Two strong arms were around the Russian's shoulders and those sweet American lips were on his again, kissing him. Pressing him back to the bed. He complied, letting the little blonde hover over him for now, tightening his arms around Alfred in return. They remained locked and intertwined for some time before the kiss finally broke. Alfred rested his face into the crook of Ivan's neck and closed his eyes. Ivan freed one hand to pull the covers over them, shifting to get more comfortable, but never once releasing the American.

The wind sang against the house, a song that went unheard. _"Slovno v proshlom ozhilo, CH'ih - to berezhnyh ruk teplo."_

Ivan woke to the bright rays of sun filtering through the pulled blinds. He was pleased to see Alfred still curled against him, sleeping soundly. Brushing back Alfred's bangs with one finger, he placed a gentle little kiss this forehead before disentangling himself from the snuggly little sunflower.

He dressed and gathered the few things he'd brought with him, leaving the boy to sleep in the bedroom, as he prepared to depart for his flight when something in the living room caught his eye. Something that hadn't been there the night before…

A bouquet of five freshly cut sunflowers in a tall aqua glass vase sat on the glass table with a small tag attached. He admired the flowers for a few moments before examining the tag.

"_Happy birthday, commie bastard. -Alfred" _

Ah yes, that explained his moodiness… December Thirtieth. It had been his birthday, hadn't it? So this is where Alfred had been when he'd been supposedly sleeping. It explained why he'd still been dressed.

"You are knowing, I am no longer communist." He said with a light chuckle.

"Yeah, well…" Alfred spoke from behind Ivan, wrapping his arms around the man, nuzzling into his scarf. "Maybe you can stay a little longer and we can celebrate your birthday properly." The little blonde suggested, muffled into the cloth.

"Hmm… Is intriguing. Da. Can be staying."

Neither male heard it as the wind howled against the house, but the haunting voice sang one final lyric, _"Budesh' ty, v dekabre, Vnov' so mnoi__̆__, dorogaya."_

***Fin***

Lyrics Translations:

"_Kak uzor, na okne, Snova proshloe ryadom."_

"Like a pattern on a window, The past is near again."

"_Kto-to pel, pesnyu mne, V zimnii__̆ __vecher kogda-to."_

"Someone sang a song to me, Sometime one winter night."

"_Slovno v proshlom ozhilo,CH'ih - to berezhnyh ruk teplo."_

"As if coming alive in the past. The warmth of someone's gentle arms."

"_Budesh' ty, v dekabre, Vnov' so mnoi__̆__, dorogaya."_

"Will you be, in December, Again with me, darling."


End file.
